Sleep Tight Sammy
by firecracker189
Summary: Sam's been at Stanford for a few weeks, and he just can't sleep. Oneshot, written for a Tumblr prompt.


Sam flopped over onto his stomach, clutching at his pillow. Wrinkling his nose, he sighed. The slightly stained pillowcase smelled of laundry detergent. It smelled clean, and dry, not damp and musty. It was just wrong… not to mention the quiet hum of the air conditioner that worked perfectly, or the fact that he ate all his meals in the same place every day, followed by returning to his room to yell at Brady to turn down the video games so he could study.

It was all so right, and yet at the same time so wrong… he fidgeted, shifting restlessly. Brady was out this weekend, something about a family thing, so Sam had the room to himself. Needless to say, after he finished his homework, and spent a good half hour texting Jessica, the girl he'd met at orientation, he'd gone straight to bed.

And now…

Well, now he was wide awake. A month at Stanford, and still, he couldn't sleep. He'd spent a better portion of his lectures yawning than he had taking notes. He'd had to bum half his notes from Brady and some guy named Michael that sat next to him in almost all his lectures.

He yawned deeply, tired eyes bloodshot and dried out. Wincing, he dragged a hand down his slightly stubbly cheek, turning onto his side and curling into a ball, clutching the blanket to his chest.

After lying there for a good hour, he sighed resignedly, grabbing his phone. Dean had said to text him if he needed anything…. And, well… sleep _was _something he needed…

_You awake?_

He waited anxiously for the reply, berating himself for not being able to go even a month without needing his brother for something. He blinked as his phone buzzed. Well, that was quick… or he'd zoned out. That tended to happen when he went without much sleep for extended amounts of time.

**Yeah, you need somethin'? **

His lips tipped up in a slight smile. That was Dean, always cutting to the chase when it came to Sam. He hesitated, thumbs hovering over the keys, unsure…

**C'mon Sammy, spit it out. I'll find out sooner or later.**

Well, threatening to drop in on him always worked, even though he was pretty sure he'd seen the Impala about two weeks ago, leaving campus…

_Fine. You win. Can't sleep. Haven't been able to since I got here…_

**Want me to read you a bedtime story? Getcha some warm milk? Maybe rock you to sleep?**

_I was being serious, asshat!_

**I know, Tinkerbell. Just calm down, 'fore ya hurt yourself. **

**Whatcha need, bro?**

Sam's lips quirked. He sighed as he leaned back against the wall, shimmying himself into something that roughly resembled a sitting position.

_Dunno man, just some sleep would be nice… just thought maybe you'd have an idea. _

He furrowed his brow as he waited, biting absently at his knuckles. There was a few moments of silence, then:

**You underestimate the power of big brothers, Sammy. Check outside your door.**

…_why?_

**Just do it, Sam. **

_Fine, fine, I'm going…_

He levered himself out of the bed, padding across the cool tile, wincing at his barefeet. Cautiously peeking out the peephole, he saw nothing… noone. He shook his head. He'd half expected to see Dean standing there.

Pulling open the door, he looked to the left, then the right. Still nothing. Turning to go back inside, his foot contacted something crunchy. Puzzled, he looked down.

A grin crept across his face as he saw the note sitting atop one of Dean's hoodies. "Sammy

Put it on and get some sleep little bro.

Dean."

Sitting back on the bed, Sam lay the note on the side table, sliding into the familiar hoodie, sighing a bit as the familiar smells of sweat, gunpowder, rock salt, and Impala surrounded him. Much better. It felt like home.

_Okay… how's this supposed to help me sleep? _He wondered, contently burrowing into the covers, already relaxed and well on his way to sleep.

**Check the pockets, sasquatch.**

Sam's hands traveled curiously down to the pockets. Finding a bulge in the left one, he pulled out a small MP3 player.

**Press play.**

Intrigued, he hit the small triangle and waited a moment, stuffing the headphones into his ears. Within seconds, the familiar sounds of Metallica and Zepplin screamed through his ears. Relaxing, he cranked the volume, plumping his pillow a bit before settling down onto his stomach. If he closed his eyes, he was back in the Impala, sitting beside Dean, warm rays of sunshine lulling him to sleep as Dean blared Metallica through the classic car, grinning from ear to ear.

**Better?  
**

_Much._

Sam grinned sleepily, yawning once more, this time followed by a sigh of happiness.

_Thanks, D._

**Don't mention it Sammy.**

As light snores drifted through the open window, Dean smiled softly, stubbled face backlit by his cell in the darkness.

**Sleep tight, little brother.**


End file.
